A Bittersweet Start
by AdelaeCalendai1998
Summary: A drabble of France's beginnings. His fears. His loves. Not every start is as happy as the fairy tales suggest. A short bit of wordage to make your heart break and tears fall free.


Hey everyone! It's Adelae here. I was on Omegle, just messing around and seeing if I could meet any strange or bizarre. I started out every conversation with "Have you watched Hetalia? Well, I'm afraid but it's all true" Then I would see if they would respond, shuffle on, or whatever. During one of the chats I felt a certain flow, one might say. That certain wash of feeling an author gets when they get a really good idea and it just comes out. I typed, sent, typed, sent, typed, sent. When I finally reached the end of my creative juices, I found a story that was Bittersweet and heart breaking and just plain aw. So, that's the story of how this story came to be. Good luck and have fun reading!

It all started one rainy day.

I woke up, alone, in the countryside. Layed out on the grass as though a forgotten doll.

My little white dress was completely soaked through, my bow drooping, and the continuing downpour not helping in the slightest.

I knew not my name nor my purpose. I was a blank slate. Only that I existed and through some old age spell the land beneath my feet and I were connected.

I wandered around that desolate mud covered field in the rain for awhile longer.

Not too long after my waking, my discovery of myself, a young couple found me.

They took me in.

Cared for me.

Nurtured me.

I became their child, for they had had none other.

Deep down I knew I was different and couldn't stay, but I did.

After 10 long, happy, /blissful/ years, I looked exactly the same as when Maman and Papa first found me.

The townspeople talked, oh they talked. They talked and shouted and /screamed/.

They screamed of witchcraft and youth potions and deals with devils.

I couldn't let my adoptive parents get hurt. Not after the kindness they showed me, a lost, crying child.

I set up a trick so it looked like I was relinquishing control over Maman and Papa. Behind the scenes, however, we were hugging and kissing and giving each other tearful goodbyes.

We only saw each other once after that. They lived on my land, in that same old cottage, so I knew when it was their time to go. To leave this beautiful planet and spend eternity frolicking in the fields of heaven.

I stayed by their bedside, never leaving. I fed them soup, dabbed the sweat, kissed their brows. They passed away within an hour of each other. First Papa. Then Maman.

I dug their graves that very night, struggling with the shovel and the hard ground. The next morning, at the funeral, I and the preacher were the only ones to attend.

For a long while after that...I was lost.

I drifted from town to town. People gave me food and shelter, if only out of pity for the "poor young thing."

At one point in my wandering travels I came across another like me.

He was kind and understood me-though he became touchy when I mentioned his prominent facial feature.

No, it wasn't his brows that caught my attention. Rather it was what lied beneath.

It was his eyes.

They told me his story, his hardships. His laughter, tears, smiles, and frowns. They sparkled from the depths and shone through the darkness from the light of his pure heart and I knew.

I just knew.

But now many, many centuries later, I am scared. I have always been comfortable around him, but I can't seem to ask him that one beautiful question.

I don't know why I can't. I mean, he is perfect, Non?

Yes he yells and drinks and calls me many names.

But I still love that man.

He has the same smile. The same hug. The same /smell/ even of my Maman.

But he can also whistle, dance, and sing like my Papa.

Plus he has their cooking skills...combined. (Though I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not. Sure it brings back memories, but I'd rather not be poisoned.)

What should I do?

I have naught the courage.

To get on one knee and open the black velvet box I've had for almost half a decade.

And utter those five simple words.

Arthur...Will you marry me?

Peace out!

Adelae


End file.
